


Vin N'attend Personne

by Lyraeon



Category: Pocket Monsters | Pokemon (Anime), Pocket Monsters | Pokemon - All Media Types
Genre: Community: FicFags Anonymous, Drunk Sex, Drunken Confessions, F/F, F/M, First Kiss, First Time, Multiple Pairings, Rejection, Rival Relationship, Rivalry, Snark, Tasting Time, Underage Drinking, Warm and Fuzzy Feelings
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-08-06
Updated: 2012-10-10
Packaged: 2017-11-11 13:22:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 16,604
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/478990
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lyraeon/pseuds/Lyraeon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Wine Waits for No-one". Cilan has had quite enough of Burgundy's belligerance; Burgundy has had enough of his superiority. With wine and the stress of a tournament as catalysts, will the two finally end their rivalry? Sommeliershipping; now being served with heaping sides of Pearlshipping and Bustershipping. Rating for lemon in later chapters.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [NidoranDuran](https://archiveofourown.org/users/NidoranDuran/gifts).



> This was, to a certain extent, a challenge from/with NidoranDuran. The rest of the extent was me getting really carried away and just running with the pairing – and some references to other pairings – especially after the last episode.  
> There's a bit of spoilers for Best Wishes 2, so I won't claim this to be spoiler free.  
> Right now it's T rated for drinking and language. It WILL be lemon in later chapters (there's going to be 3-4, it's not gonna be super long) so bear that in mind.  
> Also I don't know any French and all the (sparse) French in this was provided by one of my friends, so if any of it needs corrected, please let me know.

Life Ruiner.

There was no simpler description for that asshole of a gym leader, that poor excuse for a sommelier, that creep, that cad, that phony, that pervert, than Life Ruiner.

Burgundy considered this fact, along with as many other insults she could come up with for him, as she stared at Cilan across the room over her glass of wine.

Even her unrefined tastes were enough to tell her how lousy the wine was. Even Cilan, as pathetic as he was, could probably tell it too.

Georgia didn't know it was bad though, and she was sitting directly to Burgundy's left, with her own glass turned upside down as she tried to coax the last drops out of it. She was a good three glasses past Burgundy's own impressive number, and it was making her bitching louder by the moment.

Just as well. Listening to Georgia complain about Iris, even if she was just tuning most of it out, made her feel less alone in her tribulations. She didn't know whether to commiserate properly or just mock her temporary companion, however - after all, Iris was so much less than Cilan's already pathetic status. Cilan had a title, and a rank, and some measure of respect in the world, however undeserved it was. All Iris had was a relatively famous birthplace, and an extremely stupid goal.

The fact that Georgia's own goal amounted to little more than defeating Iris was mock-worthy in its own right. At least Burgundy's defeat of Cilan would mean something in life. Becoming an A-class - no, surely, before she was through, she'd be an S-class - sommelier would make her world famous, and rich to boot. Not to mention the pleasure of ruining Cilan on her path to stardom. Maybe she'd even get to close down his precious gym, though maybe, just maybe, she'd leave it to his jokes of brothers instead, since neither of them was particularly good at defeating challengers anyway.

"...Just look at her, standing over there like she owns the place, just because she has a Dragonite now. The damned thing doesn't even like her. Sure, it's strong, but it just proves how much of a joke she is. That Dragonite never would have defeated me if it had actually listened to her. She didn't defeat me, it did. What a joke. She's such a fucking child."

Burgundy was almost sorry she'd let Georgia's words call her attention again. She sounded so whiny right now, though cheap wine had that effect on a person.

She sighed to herself, feeling incredibly grateful she didn't sound as foolish as the half-rate trainer she was rooming with.

"Your glass is empty, _non_?" she asked, and Georgia blinked as though she hadn't realized this fact, even though she'd tipped the empty chalice upside down at least four times by now. "Can you get me more, too?"

"Get it yourself," Georgia snapped, shoving Burgundy's hand back out of her face.

Already a glass or so beyond the ability to react quickly, the motion caught the sommelier off guard and the glass tumbled out of her hand, landing in her lap and splashing the last dregs across the ruffles of her dress.

"You!" she screamed, barely thinking to snatch the stemware and save it from certain death before standing up and fuming at the Dragon Buster. "Careless _putain_! My dress!"

"Yeah well it was ugly anyway," Georgia sighed, completely unconcerned with her roommate's anger. Naturally, this only upset the sommelier more, and she muttered to herself in French for several seconds before snatching the redhead's glass from her and storming toward the buffet table.

"It's no wonder someone classless like you can't even defeat a child," she snarled as she left. Her words had no effect on Georgia, who watched her retreat with a smirk. Insults meant nothing to her when they didn't come from a dragon trainer; anyone else was too weak to be worth her time by default, and Burgundy took a lower spot still on her list for her sheer idiocy, despite their circumstantial friendship. She was, of course, still glad her eardrums had survived the incident, but her mind was too muddied by alcohol for even that thought to form fully.

Instead, she just enjoyed the view as Burgundy tripped over her needlessly long gown, attempting to take another sip from a glass that was no longer in her hand as she watched.

Burgundy got all the way back to the buffet table before she remembered the subject of her distress and sought him out again, picking his spring green hair out from the crowd easily.

Cilan.

The _Life Ruiner_.

She snarled openly, startling someone beside her at the table, who dropped a pair of tongs upon deciding another hot wing was not worth finding out what had the purple-haired girl so annoyed. She barely noticed the random passerby, instead focusing on refilling her and Georgia's glasses while willing Cilan to die by focusing all of her energy through her eyes at him. It was a small miracle she didn't spill more wine on her dress in the process, since she was paying far more attention to him than the bottle or the fullness of her glass.

The tournament had provided more than enough to go around, at least. That fact brought a little smile to her face as she watched him try, in vain, to convince his idiot companions to try a sip of his own glass. Neither Ash nor Iris - how she remembered their names, she wasn't sure, because they were even less worth her time than Cilan - was of drinking age, if she remembered right. That other, _pretty_ girl hanging around with them wasn't either. Of course, she had a year to go herself, but no one was checking IDs here, and an event like the World Cup was hardly an occasion to debate over little things like 16, 18, or 21, especially when there was surely a few people in the room from lands with no drinking age.

She took a sip from her glass, discouraged to find it as bitter as ever, then took a gulp for good measure, before finally deciding that maybe, instead of spending the evening focusing on what a Life Ruiner Cilan was, she should browse through this multicultural buffet for someone who would treat a lady like herself properly. Indeed, that was the proper way to use such an opportunity, and she mentally scolded herself for not realizing it until now, before congratulating herself for coming up with such a brilliant plan.

Yes, she'd find someone quite handsome, and she'd parade around the room with him, and trade bold kisses with them on the dance floor, and then Cilan would see what he was miss-

"Oh my, Burgundy. Two glasses? No wonder you tripped and soiled your beautiful gown."

Her tormenter's voice rang out from beside her, loud and clear and just a little more smug than usual, and she felt any desire to find a one night stand instead of publicly humiliating the sommelier fizzle out like a thunderbolt hitting a palpitoad.

"For your information, _bête_ , one of them is for Georgia, and she's the one who spilled on me as well. As if I would ever be so clumsy as to spill on myself! A sommelier must have poise."

"They must," he agreed, reaching out and taking Georgia's glass with his free hand and - before she could object - setting it back on the table. "But you still lack it. Hurry and finish your glass, then go change before the stain sets," he commanded.

For several seconds she stood off-balance, too overwhelmed to comprehend whether he was insulting her or sincerely offering help. Of course, there was no way - none in the world - that Cilan could be attempting to be nice to her. He was simply too much of a pain, so clearly he was just trying to remove her from the room, but why? 

"...Don't think you can keep this whole crowd to yourself," she scolded, swatting the hand that was creeping toward her side away. "They deserve better than the half-rate evaluation of a fraud sommelier like yourself. Don't think for a minute you can impress anyone here. They're world class, and you're just a host who pretends to be a gym leader. Your taste will fall flat compared to their experience."

His face wavered at her ranting, concern flashing across his eyes as he carefully took her arm. "Perhaps you've had a bit much to drink. You're speaking nonsense-"

" _You're nonsense_ ," she snapped, pushing his arm away. "I will ruin you, you joke of a sommelier. I will ruin you the way you ruined my life!" she announced, pushing him away and striding off, leaving him to contemplate her drunkenness and his own empty glass.

With a disdained sigh, he poured himself another glassful, checking the year on the bottle before he did. The tournament had certainly skimped on the quality of the beverages, in his own opinion, but with half the competitors under the legal age of 18 it was entirely understandable. Better to serve something cheap that would turn the non-drinkers off to the flavor, and would feed the alcoholics at a reasonable price, unless they wanted the trouble of hiring a barkeeper and having a full service. Careful surveying had revealed that a few years of the wine were actually worthy of his pallet, however, and he made sure he had chosen one of the best bottles before refilling his glass and stashing the bottle behind the others.

Burgundy reappeared just as he was about to turn back to his companions, fire in her eyes as she snatched the glass he'd take before back off the table.

"This was Georgia's, not mine, so if you did anything _weird_ to it, you're going to be disappointed, you filthy pervert," she spat, lips curling with every syllable as she clutched the glasses to her chest. She backed away several paces before finally throwing her head back and breaking eye contact with him, leaving him bewildered.

He'd chalk her unnecessary behavior up to drunkenness, but Burgundy always treated him like this, rain or shine, sober or, as he'd found out for the first time tonight, not. Her crush on him was distressingly obvious and frustratingly juvenile, driving him to the point of agitation on a regular basis. And surely it was a crush - he knew no other term to describe it when one obsessed over another on this level. Perhaps "stalker", but that seemed too harsh for someone who could be soft and friendly when coaxed out of her harping.

Indeed, when she smiled and kept her volume down to a respectable level, Burgundy was someone Cilan was happy to call a friend and maybe even a rival, though he considered that term more appropriate to those who were on a similar level, the way Ash was with Trip and Iris was with Georgia. It wasn't that Burgundy lacked potential, either; the fact she'd even passed the sommelier training exams showed she had talent buried behind that bullheaded nature. It was just that she was so distracted by her quest to defeat him that she hadn't allowed herself a chance to develop her talents properly.

Lost in thought, Cilan had managed to drain his glass again without taking a single step back toward Ash pr the girls.

He had barely allowed himself a drink since setting out from Striaton, but any trouble those three could get into at the hotel overnight was trouble he was likely to encourage at best and want to forget at worse. Deciding he had no good reason to remain sober, he topped off his glass and headed back to his companions to celebrate Ash's victory a while longer.

When he glanced back at Burgundy, she was still fixated on him, despite the fact Georgia now seemed determined to drag her from her chair.

_"The way you ruined my life."_

As he considered the words, he rubbed his the bridge of his nose and shook his head. Burgundy was her own unique blend, that was for sure - he just wished she would replace a little of the vengefulness with practice and wisdom. He didn't really want her words to bother him, but they were nagging at him just the same. It seemed highly unlikely one defeat, no matter how crushing it was, had affected her to this extent - so what was it that made her obsess over defeating him so?

He wanted to make the obvious assumption - especially from the rare moments where she softened and even smiled to him - but believing she had a crush on him felt a little egotistical in his own mind. After all, not even infatuation would drive a person to change their life course as she had, would it?

Cilan gave a glance back over his shoulder, and found her gaze still fixated on him. The moment their eyes connected, the fury in her face tripled, and he grimaced, averting his eyes to Georgia instead.

He couldn't hear her from this distance, but Georgia's lips were quite animated, her sentences punctuated by gulps of wine and licks of her lips. All the while, her eyes were trained on one spot and one spot only, and instinctively he knew where her line of sight would lead even before he followed it.

Iris.

Their encounters always had the flavor of a fight for dominance that rose above a simple rivalry, and alcohol had a reputation as a truth serum. He wasn't sure whether to feel amusement or concern at the way this revelation confirmed his suspicions; the latter arose because he wasn't sure the dragon trainer shared in her rival's intentions. Rather, Iris's attention was fixated in the same place it always seemed to be - one tournament-winning Ash Ketchum - though even without drinking tonight, her eyes flitted occasionally in Cynthia's direction, as though she was scared the champion might vanish if she didn't keep track of her. He smiled to himself at both thoughts, taking another sip from his glass.

Before he could look to Burgundy again, there was a bump against his shoulder, and he found a hand clutched to his elbow for stability. "Sorry," Dawn squeaked, balance wavering for a second more before she finally managed a firm breath. He glanced down to where her ankles were wobbling, just slightly, atop three-inch high-heeled sandals. Piplup clutched her other leg the best his flippers could, concern in his round eyes, and as Cilan looked back up, he understood why.

Ash and Iris had turned down his earlier offer to get them a glass of wine - Iris had taken a sip and cringed, Ash had just outright refused - but Dawn had accepted sheepishly. Right now her glass was definitely fuller than he remembered it being before, which made him suspect she'd slipped away for a refill, and between her age and slight frame there it was no wonder she was a little tipsy now.

"Wine and high heels aren't the best marriage," he warned gently, letting his arm link with hers.

"I-it's okay, really," she murmured, though she gripped his arm rather tightly. "I just tripped a little."

"Perhaps we should find you a chair? Just for a few minutes?" She shook her head, so he added, "The coat check accepts shoes as well. You'd hardly be the only one here to shed their heels; they're not exactly designed with comfort in mind."

She frowned, sighing heavily, and continuing the night's hobby of following gazes Cilan traced hers back to Ash, who was still talking enthusiastically with another competitor, Iris standing only inches from his side. He could barely contain his smile as he looked back to the coordinator, only to find her studying the way her wine swirled in its glass rather intently.

"Maybe I should take them off," she conceded. "I didn't really have a chance to break them in before tonight."

"Resting a moment will make you feel much better," he assured her. "Lead the way."

He barely noticed the heavy footsteps approaching them from behind, and paid no mind to them until they turned around and found Burgundy was only two strides away.

" _Débauché!_ " Her voice was raised enough to call attention from at least a quarter of the room - though her stomping across the room had already alerted plenty of others. " _Qu'elle est trop jeune_! I know you like to prey on young girls, but this is beyond shameless!"

Cilan cringed. He was inebriated enough himself to find her tirade even more obnoxious than usual, and the subject matter made it worse. The urge to tell her to shut up rose in his throat.

Then Dawn spoke before he had a chance to, though her words were half drowned in a fit of giggles. "Cilan? A pervert?" She knew only the barest of French, most of it fashion-related, but Burgundy's meaning was obvious from the redness of her face and the rage in her voice. "He's a perfect gentleman. You're the shameless one - you can't even hide your jealousy long enough to introduce yourself!"

"J-jealousy?! _Certes, c'est une farce_. This excuse for a sommelier is nothing to be jealous over. I'm merely trying to protect an innocent little girl from his wiles."

The gym leader found his arm empty as Dawn pulled free, an unexpected fire in her spirit as she strutted toward Burgundy. Even in heels, she was still shorter than the sommelier but that didn't stop Dawn from giving her a piece of her mind. "I'm hardly a little girl, and I can protect myself, thank you very much. You can't even protect your clothes from your drink!" It was an odd insult, but it seemed to work, leaving the purple-haired girl speechless just long enough for Dawn to brush past her. "Come on Piplup!" she called behind her, and her partner gave Burgundy one last evil eye before following after her.

Burgundy was positively boiling by the time she looked back at her rival, lips curled into a snarl. "I'm not jealous!" she snapped. "There is nothing about any of you idiots I'd ever be jealous over."

Cilan was beyond tired of her ranting, but he simply scowled down at her, waiting for her to dig her own grave before listing off his own disapproval.

"You're all horrible, awful people! Especially you! You're a complete monster, bossing me around like you know better than me! And your sense as a sommelier is a joke! _Une fraude_! You wouldn't know a good combination if your life depended on it! And I'm tired of you following me everywhere and ruining my life!"

"Are you quite done?" His voice had gone cold, his eyes narrowing as he considered where to start in his lecture. He took a step forward, closing the space between them; her needlessly flouncy skirt flared enough to fill the remaining inches. Whether she genuinely expected to best him or this was an immature infatuation was beside the point by now; she was no longer just insulting him and his skills, but his friends as well, and he was no longer in a mood to play nice with her. "Because from what I've seen, you're the one following _me_ everywhere, throwing tantrums like a love-struck grade schooler."

Her lavender eyes trembled, darting between both of his several times. Cilan could see her teeth grinding as she weighed his accusation, as though she needed to manually crank the gears in her alcohol-clouded mind in order to come up with a proper retort.

Her chest rose as she took a deep breath, and he smirked, expecting her to start screaming again.

Then, before he could process the action, the rest of her rose too, her fingers suddenly pulling at the top of his vest to drag him to her as she lunged onto her toes...

And kissed him.

For several bewildered seconds he felt her lips pressed to his, so firmly he feared one of them would wind up bruised. Her chest and the arm trapped between them trembled against him. Her lips shifted, tilting just slightly, and they felt warm and slick against his for the last second before she pulled away again.

Just as suddenly as she'd grabbed him, she pushed him away, stumbling back a step and sneering at him all over again.

There was a loud crack as her open palm found Cilan's cheek, and the room seemed to fall silent as the slap echoed across it, everyone slowly turning to see what the commotion was.

She was shaking as she stared at him, her still-stinging hand rising quickly to cover her mouth. As he slowly turned to face her again, his rage barely contained, he thought he saw remorse flash across her eyes for just a split second - but for which part of her actions?

"...Evaluate that, _s'il vous plaît_ ," she snarled, giving the barest of curtseys before turning away and pushing her way through the gawking crowd.


	2. A Cold Buffet

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was not supposed to be multiple pairings.  
> I am bad at plans.  
> ...So yeah. The challenge accidentally grew, as Duran and I kept mocking each other for doing things like referencing other pairings... and then wound up doing them ourselves. So, this fic is now officially an ensemble fic. Sommeliershipping is still technically the main pairing, but there are others along for the ride.  
> Don't drink and Skype, kids.

Georgia watched the commotion from a comfortable distance, not bothering to get up from her chair.

She had to admit, she was a little impressed at Burgundy's nerve. She had expected her roommate to cause trouble when she'd jumped up, referring to both Cilan and Dawn as several French terms she didn't understand but assumed weren't remotely polite. She _hadn't_ expected her to kiss him, of all things – but of course, Burgundy was an idiot, and she'd fucked it up by slapping him right after.

The dragon buster leaned back, resting her elbows on the table behind her, and barely noticed that the red and blue blur scurrying past her was one of Cilan's companions. She was that new one – the pretty one who put too much flare into everything she did, but in a way that didn't piss her off like the sommeliers' stupid metaphors did. She had her shoes in one hand and her Piplup fast on her heels as she raced to Cilan's side.

Ash and Iris were already there. Their reactions had been delayed slightly, probably out of disbelief that any of it had even happened, but they'd been barely five feet away so they were on him already. She couldn't hear them – she didn't particularly want to, honestly – but she saw the concern in their faces, the frustration in Cilan's, and the way he kept glancing toward the door Burgundy had stormed out through.

The look of determination on his face, the desire to follow the source of his annoyance, was uncomfortably familiar, and Georgia sighed, suddenly wondering if she'd be welcome back to the room she'd paid for that night.

-o-o-

No sooner did Dawn reach Cilan than she had her hand cupped on his hurt cheek, and he shook her touch away. When she tried to replace it, he gently pulled her arm away. “I'm fine,” he assured her.

He was still watching the door she'd left through, but why, he couldn't be sure. Was he giving her a head start? Giving himself a moment to calm his anger? Or just hoping this was a ruse and she'd reappear, sheepishly, any moment?

He saw Ash from the corner of his eye, and the way his attention had suddenly left Cilan and moved to where he was still holding onto Dawn's arm. He looked uncharacteristically stiff, and with a frustrated sigh at how high emotions were running tonight, he dropped her hand, taking a step toward the door.

Iris shoved past him, suddenly roaring about how childish Burgundy was, and Cilan had to grab her instead, though he was not as gentle or patient with her.

He appreciated his friends' concern, he really did, but the three of them clearly had their own issues to work out, and he didn't feel like tolerating any of it at the moment.

“I can handle this. Thank you, but stay put,” he said. His voice was so stoic, so uncharacteristically serious that it halted Iris's squirming without further action on his part, and when she gave a soft nod, he finally let go. He glanced between his three charges, trying not to let his anger show. “I'll be back.”

They gave weak nods, gathering together, Ash and Dawn each taking one of Iris's hands as if to hold her back, or perhaps just to huddle together for safety. Indeed, their pokemon were gathered together at their feet, Pikachu and Piplup huddled around the sobbing Axew, and between the six of them, all but Pikachu were staring at him like lost children.

He gave one more long breath, surveying the room, trying to clear his brain and create a plan – was following her even the right course of action? Unexpectedly his eyes found Georgia, who gave him an unimpressed wave, looking just as annoyed as he felt. When he raised his eyebrow at her, she pointed upward – upstairs – and then flashed three fingers. The third floor.

Of course. She and Burgundy were rooming together, so she'd know where his rival had run.

He gave a slight nod, mentally noting to thank her later, whether this turned out to be a good idea or not. Georgia was over the top, but less so compared to Burgundy, and her intentions were more genuine.

Intentions. Cilan barely knew what his own were anymore, as he left his friends and the ballroom behind and found his way to the elevator. He'd expected his and Burgundy's rivalry to crescendo into either a kiss or, given her feisty nature, a slap, but not _both_ , and certainly not on the same night. When she'd kissed him, he'd felt a sense of relief wash over him – both that his sense had been correct, and that she had made a move on him at last. He couldn't deny that his affection for her had grown over the last months, but he had pushed it from his mind, prioritizing his own journey over possible romance.

The slap had only re-complicated matters, frustrating him in a way his intoxicated mind couldn't fully express. He was less annoyed at the actual attack, and more at the way she seemed to be fighting the inevitable.

The door dinged back open on the third floor. Before he even stepped out of the elevator, Cilan could hear Burgundy's voice from down the hall, and he followed it, rounding a corner past the ice machine before she came into view.

She was pressed to her door, swiping the keycard repeatedly and swearing up a storm under her breath. No matter how furiously she jiggled the handle, the door wouldn't budge, and as amused as he suddenly felt at her predicament, he also said a silent thanks to whoever had invented hotel locks for making them so temperamental. It was only this delay that had let him catch up to her.

“ _Non, non, NON_!” she snapped, stepping back and kicking hard enough that the door shook on its hinges loudly. “ _Si emmerdant_!”

In her fussing, she didn't notice him approaching.

When she grabbed at the handle again, Cilan's hand pressed to the door on one side of her, the other grabbing the knob before she could yank on it. She let out a yelp, recoiling her hands to her chest.

With a smug smirk, he pulled the keycard from Burgundy's clasped fingers, swiped it precisely, and once it beeped, he pressed the handle carefully, letting the door unlatch and swing open its first few inches.

He saw her swallow hard, could hear her breathing in the sudden silence of the hallway in the wake of her anger. She was pinned between him and the door, but not trapped. At any second she could duck beneath his arm, begin another round of insults, or even just break eye contact with him, and he would walk away and let that be that.

But she stayed, and she stared, and each time it looked like she might speak – her lips kept twitching, forming the edges of words and snarls – no sound came out.

He lowered his head gradually, holding her gaze captive with his, until they were eye to eye and he could feel her shallow, heated breaths across his face.

When he claimed her lips, it was slow and deliberate, almost demanding. His mouth dragged across hers wetly, pulling gently at each of her lips in turn.

The noise she made as he pulled away was soft and helpless, the squeak of someone who could hold their breath no longer. Coming from Burgundy, someone who normally had no shortage of words to shout, it was unexpected and oddly refreshing. He stayed poised in front of her, face to face, waiting for a response, whatever it might be.

Her expression had softened, her scowl gone and her lips left in an almost forlorn pout at the loss of his. She watched them, momentarily fixated and seeming to expect their return...

As soon as Cilan's face betrayed the smallest of smiles, loud Burgundy returned, and her angry sneer with it. “What do you think you're doing?!” she demanded, though she made no attempt to escape.

“My apologies,” he answered, slowly letting go of the door, releasing her and letting it swing open behind her. “I was only returning the one you'd loaned me in the ballroom.”

She stared for several long seconds, frozen aside from the steady panting of her chest.

-o-o-

“You think he's going to be okay?”

“Yeah, he'll be fine. That was really rude of her, but Cilan's face looked okay. She didn't hit him that hard.”

Iris and Dawn both gawked at Ash, dumbfounded.

“You're such a kid...”

His face twisted into a slight pout. Iris's habit of teasing him had been frustrating on its own, but now she had the otherwise sweet Dawn doing it too. For some reason the taunt annoyed him a little more each time they said it, bringing him down in a way no one but Gary had ever been able to before. By now, Ash had resigned himself to the fact it was probably because he actually cared what that short list of people thought of him, but it hurt the most coming from Dawn.

“I'm worried about him too,” he muttered, feeling the edge of his ears heat with embarrassment that he didn't know what he was being childish about this time.

“She's pretty crazy, but it's obvious Burgundy likes Cilan. And I think he kind of likes her too,” Iris explained.

The three of them had chosen one of the dining tables to gather at in an effort to avoid the attention of the crowd. Cilan and Burgundy's outburst had quickly become the subject of gossip for the entire room, and Dawn's feet were far too tired for her to stand there while they were questioned. She had settled into one chair with her feet up on another to stretch out. Iris was sitting on the table itself, her feet on the same chair, to give her a higher vantage point as she munched away at plate of desserts from the buffet. Ash was standing more or less between the two, with his back to the crowd, and he was pulling at the cuffs of his suit as it started to overheat him. All three of their pokemon had curled up together sleepily under the table, and from her few brief appearances throughout the noisy evening, they suspected Meloetta would either join them soon, or had already taken shelter back in the boys' room.

“I got that feeling off her too. She just seemed really, really jealous.” _Like Kenny was,_ she mentally added, glancing up at Ash.

“I just thought she was cranky,” he admitted when he noticed Dawn's attention.

“Some people act like that when they're in love,” Iris shrugged, taking another bite of cake. “Especially if it's someone they're not supposed to like, or who they think doesn't like them.”

“Really?”

Dawn sighed, trying not to let the frustration come through her voice. “Ash doesn't get it because he's never liked anyone.”

“I have too!” he snapped defensively, crossing his arms.

“Really?” both girls answered a little too quickly.

“..Who?” Iris added skeptically.

He suddenly seemed unnaturally interested in the far wall. “J-just someone, okay,” he stammered, ears tinting again.

Dawn flashed a small smile, then looked down at her lap, twisting a handful of her dress nervously.

Oblivious to Dawn's reaction, Iris gave a loud giggle, smiling widely as she continued on her cake. She was now certain of what she'd suspected for some time: Ash Ketchum had a crush on her, just as she did on him. Now she just had to find the opportunity to use this information, and with the crowd – both of their friends, and in the ballroom – thinning, she was sure that opportunity would come soon.

“I- I want some dessert, too,” Dawn announced, filling the awkward silence that settled between the three. She stood up, smoothing the spot where her nervousness had crumpled her dress. “Do you guys want anything?”

“I'm stuffed. Thanks though,” Ash smiled, giving his belly a pat. Iris just held up her plate, which was still fairly full, and shook her head.

Setting her empty glass on the table, Dawn scurried off toward the buffet, smoothing her hair as she went. She was a nervous wreck from the conversation, and what little alcohol she'd had, unfortunately, was not enough to calm her. There was a continuous heaviness on her chest, in fact, which she worried was from that very wine she'd drank in hopes it would stand up to its title of liquid courage.

A couple of cookies and a glass of regular punch would, hopefully, be enough to take the edge back off.

As soon as her back was turned, Iris hopped off the table, adjusting the ruffled sleeves of her own dress. Ash was watching Dawn as she walked away, but Iris didn't let that faze her – of course he was just concerned, because their friend had been drinking, he didn't want her to fall flat on her face as Burgundy had done earlier.

“Hey Ash~,” she cooed, a grin spread across her face. She couldn't believe they were alone already; she had barely had time to put her plan together, and already she was getting to enact it.

“Hmm?” Ash looked back at her, jumping slightly from her sudden proximity. “What's up, Iris?”

“Your crush. It's not on someone I know, is it?” Iris did her best to make her voice sound as playful as possible, instead of just coy. The trainer was always one to buckle under teasing, and this was her opportunity to use that knowledge for her advantage.

“I-I...” he stammered, trying not to look at her. “Don't worry about it,” he muttered, not quite looking at her fully. Iris couldn't help but smile as his blush spread, and she took a step closer to him.

“It's not me, is it?” she teased, leaning up slightly so their faces were closer together.

He stared at her, eyes wide, and the split second of hesitation was all the confirmation she needed.

She rose to her toes, kissing him, the way she'd debated doing repeatedly since meeting him. For one instant, his amber-brown eyes were impossibly close to hers, and then his lips were right there, softer than she'd ever imagined. She closed her eyes, smiling to herself over her accomplishment – finally, she'd made a move on Ash, and from the looks of things, her hunch had been right.

Her smile broadened when his head tilted, ever so slightly, against hers, and she threw her arms around his neck, making the kiss firmer and letting out a satisfied sigh against him. When one of his hands rose to rest on her back, she leaned into him slightly, letting him support her weight, and the thought that this was only the first of thousands of kisses rose to fill her heart.

How they noticed the clatter of a single fork over the din of the ballroom was a miracle in of itself, but there was a slight silence that followed, as people turned to stare at the girl who'd dropped it. Feeling Ash's face tilt away from hers, barely pulling from her lips, Iris opened her eyes to see what was so important.

Dawn was standing a few feet away, her mouth agape, her eyes pooled with tears just shy of overflowing, as she stared back at Iris and Ash. The fork had fallen from her plate, and from the way it tilted, the contents of her plate were soon to follow, if not the entire dish.

Ash pulled away just in time to call for Dawn as she turned and ran.

It was only then that Iris realized that the tilt of his head and the press of his hand had been his way of trying to coax her away, not him urging her on.

He ducked under her arms as easily and casually as he would a branch, starting through the crowd after Dawn.

“Ash!” Iris yelled after him, reaching to grab him even once he was out of reach.

“I'll be back!” he called back to her. “Watch Pikachu and Piplup for me!”

He vanished from the ballroom no differently than Cilan had; hot on the trail of a girl he didn't know he wanted, and leaving behind those that needed him the most.

It took over a minute before Iris finally collapsed into the closest chair, her eyes unmoving from the doorway, wondering when she'd lost.

-o-o-

No amount of pressing the button could make the elevator doors close fast enough, and Dawn barely remembered to press the button to take her to the right floor. Leaning her forehead to the wall above the buttons, she let out a dry sob, still trying to hold back any actual tears. She'd get into the room, curl up in bed, and cry herself to sleep. If Iris showed up before she was asleep, she'd just pretend she already was.

The fact she'd left Piplup downstairs was the only flaw she could see in her plans. He was asleep though, and there was no sense making him worry – he worried more about her already than she really felt was right. Trainers were supposed to take care of their pokemon, not the other way around, no matter how proud and overprotective those pokemon were.

He'd find his way back upstairs with Pikachu later, she was sure. Then in the morning they could pack and-

The door opening to the fourth floor saved her from her train of thought and the tears that came with it. Carefully wiping only the tears that had already managed to spill, Dawn peeked out of the elevator, then dashed down the hall to her room. The rough carpet under her bare feet reminded her that she'd left her shoes at the coat check, and while the knowledge that she'd have to retrieve them tomorrow was just one more annoyance, she was still glad, because escape would have been much more difficult in them.

She heard the heavy clunk of a door bursting open down the hall behind her. It had the unmistakable metal echo of the emergency staircase, and she knew only one person could have taken four flights that quickly.

“Dawn?!”

At the sound of Ash's voice, she froze, hugging herself in lieu of her missing partner. “Why did you follow me,” she whispered to herself. He'd looked so happy wrapped up in Iris's arms. Why had he chased her?

She heard him running closer, then his voice again – this time, he'd spotted her. “Dawn!”

The coordinator didn't turn to look at him, didn't give any indication she'd even heard him, even after his footsteps stopped right behind her. “Dawn... Are- are you okay?” He was panting from running up four flights in a suit, and leaned against the wall as he tried to catch his breath. “What's wrong?”

Dawn nearly laughed from the shock of being asked what, to her, was an incredibly stupid question. Was even Ash honestly thick enough to not know what was wrong? She took a deep breath, shaking her head. “I'm just really tired,” she lied, barely hiding a sniffle.

“I'm sorry about Iris... I don't know why she-”

“No, it's okay. That's between you guys, I didn't want to interrupt.”

Then his hand reached her shoulder, and any ability to hold back her tears vanished.

“I'm sorry,” she choked. “I think I'm just still jet lagged... I'm so tired...”

He nodded slowly, frowning at her crying but trying his best to believe her. “If you need to sleep, that's okay. Just don't run off without saying goodnight... you kinda scared me...”

The last of the dam broke, and Dawn threw herself against Ash's chest, clinging to him and sobbing wordlessly. Some of the sounds sounded like an attempt at “goodnight” but the rest were variations of “sorry”.

Then he tried to hug her in an effort help her calm down, and just as suddenly she let go, standing rigid. “I'm okay,” she tried to assure him. “I just... It's probably the wine. Really. It was dumb of me.”

He gave a weak nod, worry hanging heavy on his face. Dawn was one of the happiest people he knew, and the whole last two days she had been more upset than he'd ever seen her before. Not even her worst losing streak, or the day he'd left back to Kanto, had been this bad.

Carefully she pulled her keycard from her dress's sash, moving to her door. “I'll be okay in the morning,” she promised quietly. “You should get back to Ir- to the others, before they worry. But thank you for worrying.” She flashed him a strained smile as the door clicked open.

He nodded again, managing his own small smile at the sight of hers. “Okay. Goodnight, then?”

She lowered her head, biting her lip, not pushing the door any further.

Ash sighed, confused and a little frustrated at his friend's sorrow. “Dawn... you know you can talk to me if something's wrong, right? I know I'm bad at advice, but I can try to listen...”

Dawn pushed the door open slowly, but shestill didn't look back up at him. She kept close to the door, propping it open with her back and leaving space for him to pass her. He walked in quietly, carefully stepping over Iris's bag where it rested at the foot of the girls' shared bed, and waited for her.

She let the door slip shut and sat down on the edge of the bed, then gently patted the bed beside her, inviting him to take a seat.

“So... what's wrong?” he asked as he sat, wincing at the bluntness of his own voice.

“Look... I just...” she reached up and rubbed her eyes again, then almost automatically, rubbed them with the back of her thumbs. Ash thought the motion odd, but managed to register what she was doing when he saw the dark smudge on her hands – a few months of modeling had already gotten her into the habit of wiping away her mascara when it ran. “I missed you. I missed you every day.”

The pained expression on her face was too much to bear. Ash reached for her hand, wrapping it around the back of hers, and tried to look her in the eye, but she turned her head away. “I missed you too,” he whispered, surprised at the tearful crack in his own voice.

“Every day,” she repeated, more insistently. There wasn't a day that went by that I didn't think of you.”

He nodded slowly, squeezing her hand again, leaning just a little closer.

“...When I got the chance to come Unova... I knew you were here and... I just got so excited. I got so excited, but I couldn't even bear to call you.”

Ash's breath caught, and he barely managed to ask, “W-why?”

“I... Because I knew you had new friends. Because I knew you had friends before me. Because I got scared...” Her fingers curled under his, digging into her thigh through her dress. “I got so scared... That I didn't mean as much to you, as you mean to me...”

“Dawn...” He felt his heart sink into his stomach, the desire to hug her tight and make her stop crying filling the emptiness it left behind. He scooted closer, closing the last inch between their knees.

“Then I got to see you again anyway... Like it was _fate_. And this whole week has just been... so perfect.” Shaky gasps broke her words apart as she tried to keep from outright sobbing, but the tears were already trickling down her cheeks again. “I kept thinking... tonight I'll tell him... _tonight_... every night... and tonight I thought, maybe the wine will help me tell him. But you kept looking at her. Like I wasn't even there....”

She pulled her hand back from him suddenly, hugging it to her chest with her other hand and letting out a loud sob, her tears back in full force.

“And she kissed... you kissed... I...”

Her head jerked back up as a hand rested on hers again, gently squeezing her wrist, and she met his face again with a whimper.

“I missed you every day, too,” he offered, eyes shimmering with tears of his own. Slowly he let go of her wrist, reaching up to brush his fingers across her cheek and dry her tears. “Please... Dawn, don't cry... It hurts to see you crying.”

“But you...”

He inhaled sharply, drawing in his courage, and then closed the gap between them, pressing a soft kiss to Dawn's lips.

-o-o-

Pikachu had spent a few minutes following Ash's departure sitting on Iris's lap, trying to make sense of the situation unsuccessfully. Even less successful had been his attempts to calm her down as she rotated between worried, angry, and defeated – so eventually he gave her a solemn pat on the arm, then retreated to resume babysitting under the table, since that was his specialty.

Iris didn't mind the pokemon giving up on her – she knew she was being difficult, and the last thing she honestly wanted now was someone's sympathy.

So when Georgia suddenly appeared at her table, as annoyed as she was with the prospect of dealing with her drunken rival, she was also a little thankful. Georgia would give her someone to direct her frustration toward, and was the one person she knew who wouldn't try to make her feel better.

“Hi.”

“What do you want?”

“Well, I was _going_ to just come keep you company, seeing as we've both been ditched. But if you're going to be a bitch, I'll just stand here and laugh at you for getting rejected.”

The dragon trainer sneered, sinking lower in her chair. She hadn't realized that anyone else had seen what happened, least of all Georgia. In this case, mockery was the one fate worse than sympathy.

“Maybe if your hair wasn't so crazy you would have stood a chance.”

Iris shot out of her chair, getting right into Georgia's face. “You don't have the brains to appreciate a traditional style like this... You're too lazy to even do anything with your hair! It looks worse than normal, without a hat to hide it.”

Surprisingly, the dragon buster didn't shout back. Instead, she stared at Iris for several long seconds, going so far as to lean down toward her, narrowing her eyes skeptically as she studied her face. Just as Iris was starting to lean back from the invasion of personal space, Georgia clicked her tongue and stood back up, taking a long draw from her glass.

“What was that?!” she demanded, trying not to sound shaken.

“Hmm?” Georgia blinked down at her, then shook her head and sighed. “I thought you'd been crying, that's all. Your eyes are all puffy, and I thought a baby like you might have cried over something stupid like this.”

“I'm not – you're the – why would I cry over this? That really would be childish.” She let out a harrumph, crossing her arms.

Georgia shrugged, dragging a chair over with her free hand and slumping into it. Her limbs hung limp from the combination of fatigue, boredom, and inebriation, even if she had cut back on the last since Burgundy had left before. Iris re-opened one eye to glare down at her, waiting to see if Georgia was planning to extend the argument.

“You two and the boys had separate rooms, right?” Georgia asked, staring absently into the crowd.

Iris snorted. “What's it to you?”

“Burgundy and I were sharing a room.”

She blinked, knowing there was a piece of the puzzle she was obviously missing, but not wanting to let on that a drunk girl was outwitting her. “So?”

“So... I highly doubt I'll want to be in that room tonight. We both know what probably went on in there, and even if they're done, they'll just start arguing again and I won't get any sleep.”

Iris cringed, sticking her tongue out in disgust at the mental image of the two sommeliers having sex. It wasn't even the picture itself – both were fairly attractive people, and Cilan's hosting services had been popular in his hometown for a reason. It was more the sounds that went with it, and in those three seconds the words “It's tasting time” were ruined forever.

“I'm still not sure what that has to do with me.”

“You're going to let me stay in your room.”

“Wha-”

“Under the circumstances, I thought I'd declare a truce. What's her name is probably in the boys' room with Ash now. If she's not, I'll just sleep on the floor or something.”

The younger girl laughed, sitting back down. “You're going to have to do better than that. You've been nothing but a bitch to me since we met, and now you want me to take you in? Let's say I do though. What're you going to do for me?”

Georgia sighed unsteadily, staring at her rival and the cocky smile she wore. Several propositions crossed her mind, each of them less appropriate and more alcohol fueled than the previous, so that while she thought she found herself licking her lips slowly, her eyes traveling down Iris's frame.

“I'll owe you a favor,” she finally said. It was simple, and vague, and something she could work to her favor. Iris raised one brow and crossed her legs, as though challenging her to do better. “Your stupid Dragonite already kicked my ass in the tournament. This is the best you're getting from me. Take it or I go boot the tasting freaks out of my room and leave them to yours.”

“...Fine,” Iris muttered. A favor was too vague to her, but Georgia still had a chance to serve as a decent distraction, and if she got too awful she could just chase her out in the middle of the night. Dawn would help, she was sure.

“C'mon you guys,” she said, leaning over and pulling up the tablecloth to reveal the pokemon sleeping underneath. “Bed time.”

As three sleepy pokemon stumbled out from under the bed, Georgia groaned. Of course, she was babysitting too. It was always something with these idiots.

-o-o-

Burgundy lunged, grabbing Cilan by the vest with both hands, kissing him with all of the ferocity and lack of grace he had come to expect of her. She wobbled after the initial grab, her balance on her tiptoes faltering and forcing her back to her heels, but she dragged his head down with her, unwilling to let go.

She broke away from him only long enough to draw a breath before pulling at his lips with her own once more, forcing her tongue into his mouth and fumbling blindly for his. He gave a disdained sigh at the invasion, frustrated by her brute force tactics, and otherwise stood completely still, waiting for her to calm down.

Burgundy let out a frustrated growl, pulling back from the kiss and glaring up at him. Her hands still firmly wrapped in his vest, she tried to kiss him again, only to be met by the same stoic, unimpressed lips.

“Do you or don't you?!” she shouted, shaking him slightly.

His face remained unchanged aside from a single raised eyebrow.

“Do you or don't you want me?!” she repeated, teeth clenched in rage. “First you kiss me, now you won't-”

“I seem to recall you being the instigator of this entire affair...”

“Only because you ruined my life!”

He sighed, giving a slight shake of his head. “You keep saying that, and yet I have no idea how I could possibly have done so. You are far from the first, nor the last, to lose to me.”

She was trembling as she stared back at him. “You-” she took a deep breath, baring her teeth at him as though she were still cornered, though escape was just one swing of the door away. “You made me obsessed with you! And you don't even care!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: A quick bit of defense: I'm actually a huge Negaishipper as well, the pairings just kind of fell this way out of circumstance. I'll have far more opportunities to write Negaishipping, but this is about my only chance for Pearlshipping without going AU.  
> Also, I still don't know French, so if I messed any of it up, tell me.  
> Reviews are loved as always <3 thank you guys!


	3. Main Entree

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter took me way too long. I'm sorry about that.  
> This chapter is pure Sommeliershipping smut, aka “what this fic was supposed to be to begin with”. I hope everyone enjoys it, and I hope I kept them in character. I know I run this phrase into the ground, but I really do love reviews and appreciate the feedback.  
> 

Cilan studied his rival's face as she yelled at him, returning her glare with equal judgment. “There are many forms of obsession. The question you need to consider, is whether yours is good or bad, and how to handle it.”

 

The door clicked shut, leaving both sommeliers standing in Burgundy and Georgia's shared room, with Burgundy still clinging to his vest in a way that would have seemed almost cute in different circumstances.

 

“ _Moufflarge_ ,” she sneered finally, grinding her teeth. “I am _not_ in love with you.”

 

“So you say, and yet,” he lowered his tone as he raised one hand to her chin, tilting it upward slightly, “you're the one who chose those words.”

 

She growled and her grip tightened. Mentally, Cilan prepared himself for a rough meeting with the wall, though he didn't let his face betray his concern.

 

The hit never came, nor did another fierce kiss, which had been his next guess. Instead, Burgundy was motionless aside from darting eyes that regarded his with total contempt, as though his touch on her face was holding her frozen.

 

He bent down to meet her again, his open lips suckling against hers with every bit of the gentleness and poise she lacked. Her shoulders hunched and she went rigid against him at the touch; she had little practice in the art of kissing, and her frustration magnified her inexperience. Not to be outdone, she quickly matched him motion for motion – to the best of her ability – pushing up higher on her toes to gain more control.

 

Slowly he coaxed her to match him, pulling back each time she got too forceful for his liking and leaving teasing licks on the curve of her lips when her grip finally started to loosen. Cilan's hand slipped from her chin, grazing up the line of her jaw and cupping her right cheek. At the touch, she let out the first sound he'd heard from her all night that wasn't meant to chastise him: an almost wistful sigh, laced with an unmistakable yearning.

 

Her own reaction seemed to shock her, as Burgundy jerked away from his lips, swatting his hand from her cheek. “Don't think that just because I've had a couple glasses of wine, I will fall for your tricks so easily.”

 

“I have no intention to trick you,” he promised, holding his hands up to show they were nowhere near her. “I just thought a few lessons in finesse would suit you,” he added, his smile holding the same subtle darkness as his prior taunt.

 

The look earned him a firm pull from the hand still attached to his vest as she dragged him into her again, followed by another of her now-familiar fierce kisses. He chuckled, prompting her to end the kiss quicker than its predecessors.

 

“What you call finesse is no more than fancy words to cover your stupidity,” she snapped, releasing him from her hold finally. “A pretty face and pretty words will only get you so far.”

 

“And yet you've managed to bring me here with only one of those at your disposal.”

 

When she reached for him again, he braced for another barrage to his lips. What he got instead was a firm shove to his chest, which left him unceremoniously flailing for balance.

 

The back of his knees connected with the edge of the bed before he could right himself. In all of her tugging and dragging, Burgundy had managed to pull him past the entryway and turn him – mostly – to have his back to the bed. He barely had a chance to be impressed by the idea she'd actually planned such a maneuver before she was on him, straddling his lap and shoving her tongue down his throat once more.

 

Cilan tried to calm her kisses again, leaning away from her and barely returning the hungry motions. This time, she refused to let him regain control, instead grabbing him by the tie and keeping them firmly lip-locked. Each of her breaths brought a new growl of frustration, and she was reaching a point where he feared her teeth would soon leave bruises on his lips. He needed a way to focus her passion a few degrees away from her rage. Blindly – he couldn't see past her face, at the angle she held him to – his hands skirted the layers upon layers of wine-stained pink tulle pooled upon his lap, until he found the beaded waist and began to ghost his fingers along her sides.

 

Burgundy shuddered from the touch, falling slightly into him, and he had to drop an arm behind him to support them both. The distraction weakened her kiss just enough that he almost escaped, though, so his other hand continued drawing light patterns through the satin bodice. Her back arched ever so slightly as his touch passed onto it... Then she gasped, and he had his freedom.

 

His head tilted, ducking his chin under hers, and he nuzzled his lips into the soft of her throat. Burgundy's grip on his bowtie faltered, her palms flattening against him as his tongue began to lap gently at her neck. “ _B-bête_ ,” she snarled, but the meaning drained from her insult as his kisses found her pulse.

 

Cilan worked his way lower, tracing the contours of her neck and the underlying tendons as Burgundy let out low groans above him. It seemed, for the moment at least, she'd forgotten all about her quest to prove herself better than him, and was instead content to enjoy his talent. Her fingers grappled into him, pulling at his shirt and vest again, but more gently now, in search of purchase instead of possession.

 

“That's better,” he murmured against her skin. He leaned back up, capturing her lower lip between his wetly before Burgundy had a chance to react to his words. As he sat straight once more, the hand on her back pulled her closer, pressing their torsos together and robbing her of whatever insult she tried to issue when their lips parted.

 

His now-free hand worked to undo his bowtie before she tried to use it as a handle again, tossing it to the side before snatching another taste of her lips. Cilan could feel her trying to glare at him from the way her forehead knitted against his.

 

“You think you're so great,” she finally complained, barely removing her lips from his.

 

“I do,” he agreed, smirking at the gasp she let out as his fingers traced the damp trail he'd left on her neck. “I have far more patience and practice than you ever will.”

 

While he was far from humble, Cilan was normally above bragging. Burgundy was, of course, the exception to this rule. So long as she insisted in tearing into him on a liquor-fueled rage, he would return the favor in his own style.

 

“I still know what I'm doing,” she insisted, shifting restlessly against him.

 

“Mmm... The basics, perhaps. But there is so much I could teach you, if you were willing to learn...”

 

To his surprise, the kiss she initiated at his words carried none of the venom she'd displayed over the night. Instead, it seemed filled with the same longing her first moan had spoken of, and Cilan rewarded her for the uncharacteristic gentleness by pulling her closer still, until their bodies were formed flush to each other.

 

Then she moaned, seeming to melt into his mouth, and he returned the sound, his left hand joining his right on her back.

 

Cilan's fingers found the zipper of her dress, tugging at it gently at first to ask permission, then harder, slowly unfastening it. Their kiss deepened again with every inch he revealed, though she seemed calmer throughout. He wasn't sure yet if she had spent all of her rage, or was merely biding it for the right time to lash out at him again. His lips slipped up her jaw line just the same, working their way across her skin once more.

 

His hands glided up to fold the flower neckline of her dress over, pushing it from the crowns of her shoulders and exposing her back and collarbone. Skilled lips followed, smothering each newly discovered inch of her skin with his attention.

 

“Ahh... Cilan... _Embrasse-moi_ ,” she groaned. It was the first time she'd called him by name all night, and the sound sent an expectant shiver through him. One hand snuck away from the collar he was pulling at to coax her face to his again, kissing her as she had asked, only to drop and begin work on his own buttons after the brief contact.

 

Burgundy whimpered when his lips left hers, and now it was his turn to feel as if he might melt.

Their series of kisses and nudges progressed until her arms were free of both dress straps and his vest was across the room, half his chest exposed to her exploring fingers. Unsupported, her dress sank lower, exposing the strapless bra she wore beneath, and his lips followed, grazing the thicker fabric as she whimpered on his lap.

 

She began another series of expletives as his fingers made their way under the bra, his hand cupping her breast and squeezing firmly as he freed it from those confines. Burgundy clawed at his shirt, but her shouting didn't seem quite angry; rather it was just her gut reactions to the pleasure, uncensored by the alcohol still circulating her veins.

 

Then his tongue reached her newly exposed nipple. Her hand smacked across his face, somewhere between a slap and a shove, pushing him away from her before she even seemed to recognize she'd hit him.

 

If she had any remorse for doing so, it vanished the next second. “ _Débauché! Ne me touche pas avec ta sale langue_ ,” she slurred, though she licked her own lips as she did. The fact she was speaking the wrong language seemed to hit her the next second, and she grabbed his half-open shirt with both hands, swallowing as though it would correct her vocal chords. “Your mouth is not fit to taste my greatness.”

 

Cilan smirked, trying not to call her on her sheer absurdity. “You seemed perfectly content to let it be all over your precious mouth.”

 

“This golden tongue of mine can't be tainted, not even by the likes of you. What better way to demonstrate my abilities than through a contest of oral skill... your tongue against mine.”

 

It was clear that she meant the kisses they'd exchanged for the last few minutes, but it was clearer still that she was trying to cover for how much she'd been enjoying those kisses. Just the same, Cilan was far from above twisting his rival's words, especially when she was already making such a fool of herself. “I agree,” he grinned, flashing his teeth. “We shall see who has more skill... As my junior, I'll allow you the stage first, if you wish.”

 

He leaned back until he was resting on his elbows, his lips twisting into a smile that was only a few shades shy of sinister – and he was only holding back that far to see how she'd respond to his challenge. Burgundy faltered, her balance suddenly thrown by her handhold slipping away from her. Her wobble easily cleared up any confusion she might have had about Cilan's meaning, as it sent her grinding against the rather obvious bulge in his lap.

 

“Letting me go first... ha! You're simply trying to delay putting in any effort,” she complained, doing her best to hold herself up and away from his erection.

 

“If that's true, there's a whole second bed you can collapse on, away from me, and I won't bother you in the least. However... the effort and skill you put in will directly effect what I do... assuming you continue our little contest, of course.”

 

Burgundy huffed, doing her best to seem offended by Cilan's rules, even as she ground herself against his lap “accidentally” to test the waters. Her reaction – a harsh gasp and another lapse in balance – seemed to catch even her off guard, and she bit her tongue to silence herself.

 

There was a glint in Cilan's eyes when she met them again. “You seem to have trouble sitting still... perhaps I've overestimated your patience?”

 

“Don't flatter yourself,” she snapped, straightening to rise above him before she could get distracted again. She took a deep breath, bracing her hands on her knees and looking down on the man sprawled beneath her, ignoring the slight smirk still on his face. His vest was long since gone, his shirt down to two buttons holding it together, and for the life of her she couldn't remember if she'd been the one to unfasten the rest or not. His bare skin showed underneath the opening, beads of perspiration decorating his chest already from the intensity of their kisses.

 

Only half-aware that her own outfit matched his state of disarray, Burgundy reached for him slowly, her fingertips setting to his skin and tracing along one edge of his shirt. The silence that passed between them as she considered his offer felt almost surreal, and the idea that it was his skin under her fingers and his saliva still wet on her neck felt incomprehensible.

 

“...Fine, I accept your challenge,” she said finally, her thumb nudging its way under the next button. Her other hand reached up to grip his shoulder, letting her lean toward his lips again while still clumsily unbuttoning his shirt with the first hand. She licked her lips, willing all of her confidence, and any rage that felt like coming along for the ride, back into the open. “Prepare to be tasted like never before.”

 

Cilan had no time to let out his laugh at her words before their lips pressed together again, so it died into a weak groan before he willed himself into silence. This would be a test of her enthusiasm and skill, and as such he wanted to give her as little to work with as possible. He wouldn't be emotionless or reaction-free, no, but he did hope to counteract the effect of the alcohol, at least.

 

She had the enthusiasm part down well, at least. He could feel her smug smirk as she drug one hand down his stomach and, after managing to find his pants under her layers of skirt, shoved her hand straight in.

 

Burgundy carried no shame in the way she grabbed him through the thin cotton of his underwear. If anything, the look of frustrated concentration she wore as she pulled from there kiss was due to there still being anything separating her hand from the dick beneath it. By making this a challenge and a game, Cilan had given her permission to want him and take him without it being about any of the emotions she carried for him. She could act as she pleased now, and any awkward confessions could wait, should they even be needed.

 

That was, above all else, why he'd told her to go first. He wanted to see what motivated her – whether her flailing was that of a sexually frustrated teenager, a puppy-love-sick girl who'd had too much to drink, or a woman in love with a man she felt inferior to. Of course there was a certain amount of sadism to his approach, from all the headaches she'd put him through and the twice she'd slapped him tonight, but overall he was testing her. The way she treated him would affect not only what and how he did for her in return, but whether or not he let his underlying affection for her show through during it. If he'd gone first, it would have been far too easy to taint her opinion with his skill and his own feelings.

 

The fingers that had been tracing his outline and the seams of his boxer-briefs finally find their way to the waistband, and she wasted no time grabbing him and squeezing him fully. There was just enough hesitation in her grip to spell out her inexperience – she knew what she was looking for, and what to do with it, but at this point Cilan highly doubted she'd ever touched any male anatomy before. Her kisses had spoken of that same innocence, though not as loudly.

 

Either way, she had the sense to let her lips nip and suckle their way down his neck as they slid away from the kiss, and he rewarded her with a pleased sigh. A sudden haughtiness passed over her posture at the sound. He would have regretted giving her even that much to work with had her palm sliding across his cock on its way back out of his pants not felt so exceptionally good.

 

As Burgundy tried to climb off the bed, her dress worked its way another few inches down. This proved to be just enough of an annoyance and distraction that she shoved it off before continuing, tripping a couple times as she stepped out of it and kicked it aside. Her bra remained cockeyed, one breast exposed, and she gave it a passing sneer before deciding it wasn't worth worrying about at the moment.

 

She dropped to her knees between Cilan's legs with a slight thump, a lackluster “ow” crossing her lips at the impact. Her hands slid up his thighs roughly, coming to rest at his hip bones. Her tongue darted across her lips hungrily, and for a moment Cilan honestly wondered if she realized the fly in front of her belonged to the same guy she'd been taunting for months or if she was simply running on lust-fueled autopilot now. Her fingers hooked over the edge of his pants, giving an experimental tug. Only the top button was undone so far, and with his zipper still fastened, his pants stayed firmly in place.

 

Leaning forward, she clumsily tried to grab the zipper pull between her teeth, missing twice before giving up and just yanking it down with her hand. The effect on Cilan was immediate and harsher than he wanted to admit. His head fell back as he sucked in a harsh breath at the feeling of her lips against him, even through the layers of fabric. Her previous grinding had felt great in its own right, but had been too rough and irregular to enjoy properly. Now, however, the anticipation was setting in.

 

She yanked down both layers together, and the way he sprang upward once free seemed to catch Burgundy off guard. She leaned back from him, taking several seconds to correct her surprise into a skeptical scowl. “ _C'est sensé m'impressionner_?” she complained, wrapping her hand around his base and giving the whole length a slight shake.

 

Their eyes caught for a second, during which he gave her a half-amused smirk that she pretended not to notice. She gave his dick a few experimental strokes. He wasn't sure whether her excessive roughness was intentional or just her not knowing better, but he gritted his teeth through it, waiting to see if it improved.

 

Her free hand pushed her hair behind her ear, her head tilting with surprising grace for her inebriation as she leaned in. Cilan bit his cheek to hold back any hint of a reaction as she gingerly licked his tip.

Burgundy's nose wrinkled. There was a certain almost sweaty bitterness to him, but overall he tasted no different here than his neck had. Her tongue flitted across her lips, wetting them, and she cast him another sneer.

 

He met her with an oversized smile, and by the time her mouth closed over his length, her cheeks were stained a deeper red than the wine on her dress.

 

Cilan's head fell back as the heat wrapped around him, causing him to let out a long, relaxed sigh. Inexperienced or not, it was hard to really mess up a blow job, and she was putting the same kind of enthusiasm into it already that her kisses had carried. Her head bobbed along his length with a slightly uneven rhythm, popping off his tip with a slight gasp every few strokes. She definitely had the theory down, at least, and the hand holding him steady was doing a good job of stroking the inches she couldn't fit into her mouth.

 

It was the first actual sucking noise – air slipping past her lips as she sucked on him too hard – that finally made him groan for her. He could resist all he wanted, but at some point, the responses just became instinctive, superseding his own want to make her work to make up for all of her stupidity and ranting.

 

He shifted to support himself on only one elbow, looking down to where she was focused between his legs. He couldn't help but grin – both from how cute she honestly looked, blushing brightly while she sucked him off, and from how classically Burgundy the look of concentration on her face was. He reached down with his now-free hand, stroking back the hair that had fallen free of her grip and resting his fingers atop hers.

 

For a split second, she seemed to lose herself, moaning lightly around him and letting her head rest into their joined hands. Then, just as quickly, she was back, pushing his hand away and glaring daggers up at him. He couldn't decide if a threat from a girl who had his dick in her mouth was hilarious or worrisome. Her next stroke slid far enough down his length to distract him from the debate, however, and he let out another moan, this one fully genuine.

 

Burgundy pulled back off him with the kind of laugh he knew meant she was about to gloat about something, and his smile faded as he rolled his eyes, ready to cut her off the moment she spoke.

 

“You're just as perverted as I expec-”

 

“If you spent half as much effort on honing your skills as you do on finding insults for me, you would be at least a class higher by now. Besides – which one is the pervert, when it's your hand currently down my pants?”

 

“I!” she snapped, her thoughts too incomplete to get her any further on that breath. “I-I- ...I'll show you skill!” she stammered, frustration wringing her voice as she pulled herself toward his cock once more.

 

“No,” he said simply, sitting up and gently pushing her away. “I've had enough of your lackluster efforts.”

 

An almost hopeless quiver passed across Burgundy's face, replaced quickly by her trademark growl of annoyance at his very existence. Cilan frowned, unsure – not for the first time – if the tightness in his chest was from her expression, or from how quick she was to hide it.

 

“...Get on the bed.” His voice stayed impressively level as he struggled to balance between frustration and lust. “That is, if you would like to taste _real_ skill.”

 

Her arms were up off his lap quickly, though she made no attempt to stand up. Instead, she sat there on her knees, gawking silently. It seemed that, for once, Cilan had managed to stun her into silence – because for once, he had dropped all attempts at indulging or even tolerating her belligerence. He stood abruptly, causing her to reel back further, then stepped to the side.

 

By the time their eyes met again, he was staring down at her in an impressive display of patience. “On the bed,” he repeated, motioning to the empty space. “Unless you'd prefer I take my leave.”

Shaking slightly, Burgundy shook her head quickly, clamoring to her feet and onto the bed. As she situated herself, Cilan disrobed further, leaving him in only his boxer-briefs and his open dress-shirt, the sleeves of which he rolled up slowly as he approached her.

 

“Your problem,” he began, striding so that he stood alongside the bed, “is that you have failed to understand one of the most basic principles of being a Sommelier.” He sat sideways on the edge of the bed, next to the hastily sprawled girl, letting one hand rest on her quivering stomach as he leaned over her. His face was barely a breath from hers as he continued, “And that is the ability to put your own biases aside long enough to read people.”

 

She wasn't sure if his lips reached her breast or his fingers reached her slit first, but one distracted her from the other just long enough for the two to blur. Her hips crested further, pushing her core and the soaked silk panties that still covered it up into his fingers. She called out somewhere between surprise and delight, and by the time the arch of her hips rolled up her spine to throw her head back, her hands seized the pillow on either side of her head with all her might.

 

With one clean motion, he pulled his lips away, pulling her panties all the way to her ankles before she even knew he had a second hand on them. Burgundy kicked them off her ankle as his fingers trailed back up her body, her legs inching open as his hand stalled to stroke her thigh.

 

His fingers slipped away and the older sommelier climbed onto the bed fully, straddling one of her legs as he bent to suckle her breasts. Burgundy yelped under him, squirming and doing her best to keep her hands as far away from him as possible. She fully expected him to claim her at any second. Every time his fingers strayed down her waist; every time he pulled away to lavish her other nipple or her neck instead; every time she felt his erection graze her thigh as his balance shifted, she expected that moment to be the last instant of her virginity.

 

One hand hooked behind her knee, slowly bending her leg upwards, making her squirm more as she was sure she could feel him poised over her. His lips trailed toward her navel, his other hand sinking between her legs, parted fingers grazing on either side of her slit, barely avoiding her most sensitive parts.

 

She arched underneath him, her whimpers growing wilder and more frustrated by the second, pushing herself up until she could feel his torso against her hips. “ _Dépêche..._ ” she whined, hands seizing his shirt by the shoulders. “ _Dépêche et mets-la dedans!_ ”

 

Her voice rang out, echoing off the thick hotel walls. Cilan froze intentionally, leaving his fingers and lips both just a breath from her skin, so that there was no sound in the room, only the silence left in the wake of her cry. For several seconds he waited, letting the implications of her volume set in to Burgundy's inebriated mind, waiting for her the inevitable embarrassed flailing to come.

 

She whimpered instead, her head twisting to the side so that her cheek nuzzled into the pillow, one hand pulling away from him and curling to cover her face. It was another motion that would have been cute coming from anyone else – that _was_ slightly cute. He was momentarily torn between continuing his lecture for her outburst and rewarding her for not lashing out at him after it, and he placed a single, soft kiss on her stomach as he contemplated his response.

 

A mix of both – the tough love he'd grown accustomed to using with her – seemed like the most appropriate course.

 

“The other thing you lack,” he whispered, his voice still carrying the depth and authority with which he'd commanded her onto the bed with, “is patience. But for now, we'll start with lesson one.”

 

Burgundy's voice echoed through the room once more, this time a wordless cry of pleasure as Cilan let his middle finger slide between her folds. He rocked the full length inside of her as his lips made their way down to her thigh, then began inching back up toward her core. The closer he got, the more she squirmed, and his grip on her leg tightened, limiting her movement so that he was in full control of where inside her his finger rubbed.

 

“More,” she choked, pulling at his shirt again.

 

He chuckled, letting his teeth graze the inside of her thigh. “The more impatient you are, the more you're just telling me you're enjoying it.” Just the same, he slid a second finger inside of her, earning another urgent moan from the younger girl from the intrusion alone.

 

Cilan suckled slowly at her skin, not aiming to leave a mark but not caring if he did, either. Instead, he was using the moment to listen, to gauge her reactions as he wiggled and twisted his fingers inside of her. He was searching for the spots that made her moan the lowest, the ones that made her hips jerk unconsciously. When her back began to arch, he smiled to himself, pulling his fingers back out of her slowly.

 

“No,” Burgundy yelped, quickly grabbing for his hand with both of hers. He snatched them both in his grip easily, smirking when her eyes darted to the two wet fingers now wrapped around her wrists. He let go of her slowly, catching her gaze with his own.

 

“More?” he asked, his voice blatantly mocking. “You're already soaked... Just from me working my way down here? Or did you enjoy tasting me that much?”

 

Her eyes were already shaking, but they snapped away at that point, her next breath far more shallow.

 

“You can't lie to an A-class sommelier; you realize that, don't you? Your body is already more than happy to tell me how much you're enjoying having me between your legs, although your words haven't been too with that either. And now your eyes carry an embarrassed taste...”

 

Another sound of protest arose from her, but he cut it off with another gentle nip of her thigh. His hand slid between her legs again, joining his other to part her lips carefully. Burgundy shivered as the room's cold air hit her wet folds, her next whimper sounding a little too much like his name.

 

“There's no shame in admitting you liked having your way with me.” His voice still carried just enough malice to suggest teasing, but there was a shift in his tone, one that called her attention so that her eyes were locked on him again as his breath caressed her intimately. “It's obvious how long we've both been fantasizing about this.”

 

“I have n-” her words faded into a long, drawn out moan as Cilan wrapped his lips around her clit and gave a long, hard suck, wasting no time or pretense on gentle licks to prepare the sensitive nub. There was a wet slurp as he released her again, only to begin kissing and lapping along her slit, his thumbs and forefingers holding her open so that he could reach as much as possible. Any part of her he could trap between his lips to rub or suck, he did. Anything and everything else, he only licked, his skilled tongue finding nerves Burgundy had no idea existed.

 

His movements were not the random, desperate motions she'd employed on his shaft; instead, they were planned out, each lick ending just shy of her clit so that only his breath touched it from that first suckle onward. The purple-haired girl was quickly reduced to a whimpering, shivering mess under his skills. Her hands grappled with his collar and hair, trying to steer him incoherently as she was unsure of where she wanted to go beyond toward release. Her hips rolled repeatedly, particularly when his tongue flirted with her entrance, begging to be filled once more. Her voice was nothing but a desperate series of vowels and panting, nothing managing to form full words in either language she spoke, unless they could be uttered in a single syllable; “ _Yes... Oui... Bon... Good... More..._ ”

 

Finally, his hands slipped away from their posts, one moving to massage her hip and thigh as he worked, the other returning its two fingers into her, an occasion she welcomed with a yelp and a swift jerk on his shoulders. Cilan spared her a scolding for the moment, instead finally paying attention to her nub once more. He guided it into his mouth, where he held it gently, swirling his tongue around it in circles that made her shiver and run her nails up his scalp.

 

Then his fingers curled inside her, and it was as though the rest of her went limp.

 

His gloating smile was wasted, as his lips were still wrapped around, and now quite firmly sucking on, her little bundle of nerves. Her head was rolled too far back to see his face, anyway, but at the least words no longer seemed to be failing the young sommelier. A series of gleeful curses and encouragement fell from her, indicating that she no longer cared that it was specifically the scourge of her existence poised between her legs and pleasuring her. It felt too good for her to object, to care, to do anything except writhe in time with the stroking of his fingers inside her and clutch at the pillow.

 

Her hips gave a swift jerk, pushing against him for the first time since his tongue had reached her clit, and his grip on her thigh tightened again as answer, pushing her into the mattress to try to keep her still. One leg wound up over his shoulder, her heel pressing into his back, but he ignored it, taking any discomfort on his end as a sign he was making good progress. The now-stifling tightness of his underwear was far more uncomfortable than her foot in his back, regardless – and both served only as inspiration to work more quickly, despite his lecture to Burgundy about patience.

 

She gave an odd squeak, her body tightening around her fingers, and with a final rough suck he pulled his lips away from her center and pressed them to the crease of her hip. Cilan tried for a moment to catch his breath, redoubling the efforts of his fingers inside of her. Her desperate whines over the loss of his attention to her clit fell on deaf ears, his lips working their way up her stomach with every complaint Burgundy issued. “It feels,” she gasped, her hips giving another desperate jerk, “It feels like-”

 

Fingers pressed more firmly still against her forward wall, grinding along the sensitive surface and making her feel fuller than two fingers possibly should have.

 

“Like you're going to burst?” he coaxed, earning a particularly pained whimper from the girl beneath him. “Like you won't forgive yourself if I make you cum so easily, but at the same time not riding this out would be a terrible waste of the opportunity?”

 

“ _Bête_ ,” she snarled, only to groan and grab for his wrist again when he didn't stop. “Bastard! Y-you're lucky I... ahhhh...” She moaned, then inhaled with a hiss, unable to complete her thought for all of the restless twisting of her hips and spine.

 

“ _Je... Je viens!_ ”

 

She screamed through gritted teeth as the orgasm coursed through her, her body tensing and her grip on his wrist becoming almost painful. Defiantly, he continued to rub his fingertips inside her, even as he could feel her squeezing him. Her hand fell away, pawing uselessly at her own leg instead, the other still tightly wrapped into her pillowcase.

 

Her second scream was a clear, “Yes!” as another pulse rolled through her, this time soaking Cilan's hand and arm, clear to his rolled-up sleeve, in her juices.

 

It took several seconds for the wet motions of the older sommelier's fingers to become audible over Burgundy's moaning, but once that balance shifted he carefully slowed and stopped, pulling his now-drenched fingers free from her gently and placing a soft kiss on the part of her thigh where his head had come to rest.

 

She issued a weak groan as his fingers slipped away, squinting as she tried, with difficulty, to keep her eyes open and focused on her rival. He brought his hand up to his face, purposefully holding her gaze with a heavy smirk. With his palm and fingers held back and taught, his tongue met with his wet wrist, cleaning her juices from his arm and hand with one long, slow lick, eyes never breaking from hers.

 

Burgundy let out a shallow, almost pained moan, her voice and mind torn between the exhaustion her orgasm had caused and another surge of arousal at Cilan's motions. He repeated the motion, this time ending with an exaggerated sweep up the side of his middle finger, and her eyes fluttered shut, her hips giving a weak jerk.

 

“Done so soon?” he asked in a husky whisper, his other hand brushing along her thigh in a way that made her whimper.

 

“N-no,” she protested weakly. “I-I...”

 

“Roll over.”

 

There was a pause – perhaps her last attempt at objecting to him, despite the number of times he'd been right that night alone, or perhaps just her finding the energy to obey his command – before Burgundy covered her face with both hands. A few deep breaths later, just as Cilan was about to repeat himself, she gave a slow nod and reached to the side, slowly turning herself. He could hear her muttering, the words “evil” and “payback” featuring amongst her jumble of words, but she worked her way onto her side anyway.

 

The moment both of her legs were on the same side of him, Cilan grabbed her by the hips, turning her onto her stomach and jerking her hips upright. She pulled her knees under her amidst a slew of curses, her arms proving far less reliable as they crumpled under her with every attempt to prop herself upright.

 

In the end, she was left with her rear in the air, her shoulders and one side of her face planted firmly into the sheets. Cilan wasted no time in pulling himself free from his boxer-briefs once more, letting his length rub along the cleft of her ass as both hands took hold of her hips roughly.

 

“So tell me,” he said, letting his weight sink against her, “Have you learned anything yet? Do you think you can read my intentions?”

 

She whimpered underneath him again, burying her face into the mattress as her back arched further. She rocked back against him, her movements sudden and jagged, her voice muffled as she moaned into the bed.

 

“I'm sorry, what was that?” he asked, giving a firm grind against her. His own voice faltered part way through, pained with anticipation, but he forced himself onward; letting his guard down around her was for a later time, if and when that happened.

 

Burgundy let out another smothered noise, only for Cilan to rock against her again. Her head twisted to the side, hands balling up the layers of sheet and blanket under her and digging her nails into it as she mustered up the strength to yell back at him.

 

“Fuck me already!”

 

He was lining himself up with her before she even finished her strained demand, pausing only long enough to drag one more teasing pass of his tip across her slick mound. “As you wish,” he answered, his voice dripping with condescension.

 

There was no hiding the satisfaction in his voice when he pushed inside her a second later, though the combination of his moan and the feeling of him suddenly buried inside of her only drove Burgundy to scream again. Her face pressed into the bed as her voice grew more shrill, her spine arching to push herself back against Cilan until he was buried to the hilt inside of her. His fingers dug into her thighs, holding her still for a few precious seconds as he got used to her heat, using what was left of his will power to steel himself against the sensation.

 

All bets were off the instant he moved again, thrusting in and out of her repeatedly at a pace that spoke loudly of the intervening hour between her first kiss and the moment he'd finally gotten his way with her. Only the barest fragments of the sommelier's normal poise remained as he pounded into her, and those last threads saved his moans from becoming curses to echo Burgundy's, nothing more.

 

Every time their hips met, Burgundy sank a little further into the mattress, though her arms did their best to push her back against him and keep her from going completely flat on the bed. Just the same, she slipped a little further every few strokes, and whenever she slipped too far Cilan would interrupt their rhythm to pull her back upright. It was the only break she got from the rapid pounding of his length into her, and the only time her squeaks formed real words. Even with his dick buried deep inside of her, pushing her steadily toward a second orgasm, Burgundy couldn't keep herself from insulting him for more than a few breaths.

 

The next time he jerked her hips upright, her usual curses were replaced by a sound closer to a growl. Her knuckles had gone white from clinging to the sheets for so long, and when he pressed into her again her head jerked upright, her teeth clamped shut and filtering the screech she tried to let out. When her head flopped back on the bed, it was clear she'd stopped trying to fight the pleasure coursing through her with every rough, wet stroke her rival made.

 

“ _C'est bon!_ ” she shouted, her head lolling against the bed in time to their rocking. He could barely see her face past her shoulder and the curls of her hair resting on her cheek, but her tongue was just visible, wetting her lips in between impassioned moans. Her eyes opened ever so slightly, catching his for a moment as he arched over her.

 

Cilan swallowed hard at the expression, his hands tightening a little more on her waist. The pause made him notice his own groaning only by the absence of it, sending a shiver through him that robbed him of all but the last shreds of his composure. “B-Burgundy,” he stammered, falling forward until his hands rested on the bed on either side of her, their bodies pressed more closely together as he continued to rock against her.

 

Unable to handle his weight on her, Burgundy sank into the bed quickly, her legs sprawled and her hands clutching to the bed for dear life as she yelped with every thrust. Cilan slid to his elbows above her, still pressed against her from hips to neck, his lips now grazing her nape and shoulder with every breath. Her curses had all but vanished, replaced by breathless praise he could barely understand between her moans and her lapses back to French. “ _Ça fait... Ça fait du bien,_ ” she managed, her hips jerking against his weakly. “So.. so good. So much better...”

 

She trailed off into a chorus of lustful whimpers, her lips trying to grab for his, though that was impossible at their angle. Half-stunned and equally eager both to reach his long-awaited climax and to hear what his weakened rival wanted to say, he whispered against her skin and pressed a long kiss to her spine. “Better than?”

 

“Better than...” she shivered, her body stiffening under him with a whine. “Better than I thought it would-”

 

She yelped at his next stroke, her grip on the blankets tightening as Cilan felt her push her hips back against his, tilting them to meet his demanding strokes. He groaned at the new angle, doing his best to keep up his pace despite the waves of pleasure rocking through him from the girl underneath him. Just as he tried to catch her eye again, her eyes flickered upward, her mouth hanging open in a low groan that rose in volume with every crash of their hips.

 

Cilan wasn't sure who came first. Between the lingering effects of alcohol and his mind trying to wrap around Burgundy's partial admission that she had wanted this to happen, his mind was too clouded to be sure when the younger sommelier's screaming transitioned from pleasure to orgasm. When his arrived, however, he held himself tightly to Burgundy's sweaty form, forehead pressed into her shoulder as he filled her. She shuddered underneath him, calling out his name, and he groaned hers back, laying a kiss on her spine before collapsing, his arms too worn out to hold him any longer.

 

As soon as he could stand to move, Cilan rolled off her, carefully coaxing her onto her side and collecting her in his arms. She whined slightly, doing her best to look annoyed by his presence, but she slid one arm between his back and shirt, holding onto him weakly in return.

 

Once she stopped periodically shivering and her breathing began to soften into a light snore, the gym leader carefully nudged her to the side, pulling the blankets out from under them and tucking them both in. For a moment, Burgundy seemed to snap out of her pleasure-induced haze, a blush spreading across her face and a familiar scowl appearing on her otherwise sleepy face.

 

Cilan spoke softly, offering his arms to her without actually touching her. “If you still hate me in the morning, you can yell at me then. For now, we should sleep, and let our neighbors do the same.”

 

“I don't hate you,” she grumbled, not meeting his eyes as she scooted closer, resting her head on his arm. “I never have, I just... wanted to beat you, fir-”

 

He flashed her an exhausted smile, pressing a silencing finger to her lips and a gentle kiss to her forehead. “I know,” he whispered, running his fingers through her hair. “Yours is a unique flavor. Bold and a little sour, but still quite exquisite. I'm glad to have tasted it.”

 

Her eyes were shut, her breath shallow by the time he wrapped his arm around her, cradling her loosely under his chin. “With time, you'll make a fine sommelier, I know it.”

**Author's Note:**

> As always, reviews are loved. Thanks for reading, and expect the next chapter in a couple days.


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